Lost Matches
by azxrae
Summary: [Jearmin Modern AU] Armin is intent on giving Jean the perfect anniversary gift, whatever that cost may be. [Edited and re-posted]


**Author's Note:** I had this up on AO3 when I wrote it a while back. Did a small bit of editing... and now I'm re-posting it in two parts. The second part will be up when it's done being edited.

* * *

 **LOST MATCHES**

by azxrae

Part 1

* * *

"Everything has to be _perfect_ , Eren."

Armin was perched on the armrest of the couch in the Jaegers' living room, his fingers swiping over his phone screen. The standard Apple 'notes' app was up with a short list. Fairy lights, candles, bath salts – and other miscellaneous necessities for the plan Armin concocted thirteen hours before. How he'd nearly let his two-year anniversary with Jean slip his mind was beyond him, but it likely had something to do with the approaching deadline of this month's issue of his college newspaper. The journalism club was in a chaotic state because of it, and as captain it was his duty to keep things in order. Usually he'd execute that job without any hindrances. But this month, his work would just have to take a backseat. Giving Jean the perfect anniversary date was his _first_ priority.

"You know... you've said that repeatedly for the past two minutes." Said a sufficiently concerned Eren, from his position a few cushions over. A jumbo bag of Doritos – opened from the bottom – sat in his lap. "When exactly is the last time you slept, Ar?"

"Sleep is for the weak." The blonde gave a final glance to his phone before turning his eyes on his friend. "This _cannot_ be like last year. I want to make it memorable."

Last year had been a complete travesty. Jean surprised Armin with reservations at his mother's restaurant, even going as far as getting the pianist to play the song they'd danced to the first time Jean told him he loved him. The set-up had been absolutely _divine_. Armin would have adored it, had he been able to actually _attend_ the dinner and not tied up at work the entire night. Whenever he thought back on it his heart ached, especially when he remembered the masked hurt in Jean's voice when he broke the news that he wouldn't be able to come. Of course, though, being the sweetheart he was, Jean had told him it was fine. But they both knew it wasn't. It was horrible. _Armin had felt horrible_.

But that wouldn't be the case this time. Armin would make _sure_ of that. He was intent on giving Jean the perfect anniversary dinner, whatever cost that might come at.

"How you've managed a whole two years with that assface is something I'll never understand." Eren nudged Armin with his socked toe, pulling the younger out of his thoughts.

"For the _umpteenth_ time, I love him." Armin sent a warning glare in his friend's direction, but it was halfhearted. He slid off the armrest and landed unceremoniously against his side, knees bent with his heels resting on the couch. "I love him so much, in fact, that I'm willing to brave this storm and run to Target to pick up the stuff I need for Wednesday."

Both Armin and Eren looked to the bay window. The rain pattered violently against the open shutters, as it had been the _entire week_. It made Armin think a mid-summer hurricane was on its way; not that he really minded. Stormy weather had always been his favorite. The palliative sounds of rain were the best to work to, in his opinion, and perhaps they'd cool his nerves enough to where he'd realize he need to get proper sleep.

"Don't you think it'd be better to order the stuff online?" With his tongue, Eren cleaned the residue from the chips off his fingers before he pulled out his phone. "You could get expedited shipping. Considering the weather and all."

The blonde made a soft huffing sound and sat up. "Eren, the thing is in two days. It'd be much easier on my nerves to just go out myself." He peeked over his shoulder, checking the clock at the corner of his phone screen.

It was almost seven.

"Yeah, I need to go."

Eren just smiled when Armin stood, watching him straighten the peter-pan collar on his shirt. "I hate to rush you, but you know Annie's coming at 7:30."

Giggling, the blonde leaned forward to loom slightly over Eren, sniffing the air immediately surrounding him.

"Mmm, make sure to factor in shower time."

"What exactly are you trying to say, Ar?" Turquoise eyes squinted as Eren peered up at him.

Armin shook his head, grinning faintly. "I'm not _trying_ to say anything." He reached into the bag and grabbed a handful of chips. "You do kinda stink, though. And make sure to use antiperspirant. You know how you get around girls."

Eren looked mildly offended by his words, but he did appear to take them into consideration as he lifted his arm and gave his pit a small whiff. Armin's nose scrunched as he looked away.

"Guess you're right." The brunet murmured.

When Armin's eyes shifted back, his friend had a whisper of a grin on his lips. The blonde crouched some so he could pet the top of his head.

"Of course I am." He smiled at Eren, who just chuckled, curved his arm around and lightly smacked his bum.

"Get outta here." He said, " _According to you_ , I need to groom myself."

Armin straightened his legs a second later and took a small bite into a chip. "Believe me, it's according to everyone in the general vicinity." His smile grew playful and he skipped backwards, dodging the couch pillow Eren had promptly thrown in his direction.

* * *

The storm had only worsened when the late hours crept in. Armin avoided it completely it seemed, having returned from Target and got home all before ten o'clock. Now his only worry was his college work; the weather prevented him from making a stop at the journalism office as he'd intended to, so the blonde felt anxious. He knew he could just _call_ Thomas and check in, but he never felt truly satisfied with a situation unless he was able to have at least a bit of a handle on it.

So as he entered the apartment that night, he was stressed. He called out to let Jean know he was home and made a beeline to the kitchen, swiftly stowing the shopping bags under the sink before his boyfriend came out and caught wind of what he was doing.

When he listened closely, though, Armin could hear the dim sound of Jean's acoustic guitar reverberating from the back of the apartment, so he assumed he was too distracted to actually come out and greet him. That was fine. Armin was feeling antsy, and needed to pour himself a glass of Antinori, anyway.

The bottle of Antinori was expensive and Italian, and had been a gift from Jean's mother. Armin didn't really acquire his taste for wine until college, but even then it was hardly his favorite drink. He did find enjoying a glass in the dark room with his record player was rather therapeutic though. Sadly, his legs were too tired to lug the record player from the back of the apartment, so the blonde settled for sitting in the kitchen, elbows leant on the island as he periodically sipped the Italian wine.

His eyes closed without realizing, but they quickly opened again when he felt an arm coil around his narrow waist. The smell of tobacco assaulted his nose as Jean pressed into his back. Armin lowered his glass and licked his lips, enjoying the gentle strokes of his fingers against the doughiness of his abdomen.

"You feel really stiff," Jean said, his breath fanning over his nape. "Are you stressed?"

Armin sighed serenely. He turned in the hold and tilted his neck up, pearlescent blue eyes staring into deep amber. When he planted his palms on Jean's chest, his boyfriend leaned forward and pecked his nose.

"The deadline's coming up." He almost whined. "And even though I know I have everything under control, I still feel… disoriented." He reached behind them and grabbed his wine glass, tipping his head back and taking a long swig. Jean watched him, his features softening.

"Armin, come on." Armin sat his glass back down. "You do this _every month_ , and then everything turns out fine, doesn't it?"

The blonde hated to agree, but he knew there was some truth to what Jean was saying. Armin _did_ have a tendency of severely stressing himself out when it came to these things, and Jean was _one-hundred percent_ the person who had to bring him back (usually by means of satiating him so deeply that he had _no choice_ but to calm the fuck down).

Giving a wordless nod, Armin averted his gaze, only to have Jean hold his chin and pull him back so their eyes locked once more.

"…I suppose." He muttered. He didn't want to show Jean that he'd truly won, so in an attempt to salvage his pride Armin leaned up to softly kiss his lips.

"But I really am fine." He spoke in his most convincing tone, "I just lost it for a moment..."

When they drew back though, Jean's face was definitely saying something along the lines of _"If you say so, but I definitely know you better than you think I do so stop being so evasive. Love you"_.

 _'_ _Damn that horse face.'_ Armin sucked in a breath and allowed Jean to grip his hips, hoisting him up on the counter and sliding between his parted thighs. The look in his eyes grew coy, and Armin was grateful for that.

"You know…" The taller male rested his palms on either side of Armin's legs, grinning as he drew closer. "Our anniversary is coming up."

Armin parked his hands on Jean's shoulders. "I'm aware." He leaned forward and chastely kissed the tip of his nose. "And I have something special planned."

Jean's eyes widened. "…You do?" He asked, clearly stunned. Armin wouldn't lie and say his reaction wasn't _slightly_ offensive, but he didn't show any traces of his true feelings on his smiling face.

"I do."

Jean tilted his head to the side, lifting his arms from the countertop so he could wind them around the smaller body and tug him closer.

"That's great, babe." He said, "But I'd be perfectly fine with just staying in for the night." He kissed Armin's cheek, and then began trailing his lips across his face as his voice lowered to a murmur. "You know, cuddling in front of the TV and stuffing our faces with blue chips. Watch some bad movies. Our usual routine." When their lips met, Armin cupped Jean's cheek to keep him there for a while.

"The only difference would be that I'd be enforcing my new rule." Jean chuckled when he pulled away, and Armin cocked his brow.

"And what's that?"

"No clothing allowed." Jean punctuated the statement by snaking a hand underneath the back of Armin's shirt. His boyfriend shuddered in response, fingers lightly digging into his shoulders.

"I suppose…" He bit his lip. "I could agree to those terms…." He saw Jean grin rather wolfishly and Armin suddenly remembered the events of earlier that day. He rolled his eyes and inclined slightly forward, his words leaving him in a barely audible sigh.

"But… all thoughts of what we _usually do_ will be completely wiped from your mind when you see what'll be waiting for you when you come home on Wednesday." Armin smiled, crossing his arms over his shoulders and giving Jean a small eskimo kiss. "Believe me."

When he saw Jean part his lips, his smile grew triumphantly. _'I win.'_ The distance closed between them and they kissed again, Jean gently nipping at Armin's lip as the blonde wrapped his legs around his waist.

"I'm actually surprised." The taller male breathed against him, "I didn't expect this from you."

Armin didn't know whether to feel glad or offended by the comment, but Jean momentarily prevented him from making any sort of coherent reply when his mouth descended.

"Why… why are you surprised?" He asked, the question soft and careful.

Jean hummed low, sending soft vibrations along the column of Armin's neck as he kissed at the skin.

"No offense, Ar," Armin stiffened a bit. He knew all too well that whenever Jean said that he ended up feeling peeved. Sighing, he closed his eyes.

"But…" Jean's tongue poked out, flicking gently over his neck. "You're not the most _romanti_ c person."

' _Oh no he didn't.'_ He lowered his hands and returned them to his sides, which caused Jean to draw back a little with a frown.

"I'm _totally_ romantic." Armin scoffed, baby blue eyes squinting at his boyfriend. "What even would possess you to _say_ something like that?"

Jean glanced away for a moment, choosing a response with caution. "See I knew you'd get upset. It's not a bad thing. It's just…" He sighed softly, and then his eyes returned to Armin. "It's the first time you've ever done something like this. I wasn't expecting it." His hand touched Armin's side, caressing the soft flesh beneath his shirt. "It's a pleasant surprise though, baby." Armin had a strong inkling he'd only tacked that pet name onto the end to try and disarm him, but it didn't work. "I really love our normal shit too. Don't get me wrong, okay?"

"You mean our _mundane_ shit." Armin corrected him, pouting some. He knew he was being sort of bratty, and really, he was itching for Jean's attention more than he was upset. But his boyfriend didn't have to know that. When Jean's face softened the triumphant feeling returned.

"Are you mad?"

Armin bit his bottom lip and averted his eyes. When he0 didn't vocalize his reply, Jean's arms coiled around him once more and he felt himself being embraced.

"C'mon." He began swaying Armin from side to side as he sang, " _Don't be mad_ , _honey."_

The blonde exhaled, his face quickly burying in the muscled shoulder as he uttered something quiet that sounded dangerously close to "screw you".

Jean groaned. "I'm _sorry_. I didn't mean for you to take offense to what I said, I was just being honest." He grabbed the sides of Armin's face and pried him up to look at him, pecking his lips as his thumbs gently stroked his cheeks. "You like when I'm honest, right?"

Armin just stared impassively at him for a short while before one particularly _sweet_ kiss made him break into a small smile.

"You're an idiot." He finally said, craning his body forward to nudge his nose against him.

Jean grinned at the contact. "And you're a fuckin' brat. But I love you anyway."

* * *

On Wednesday night, Armin made careful certainty to keep Jean out of the apartment at least an hour more than normal. He wanted to ensure all the preparations were checked – and checked again, and perhaps a third time – before the time for _the thing_ finally arrived.

The thing was, in fact, a dinner. Armin prepared homemade sushi – it was surprisingly simple to make even with his cooking deficiency – and filled two champagne flutes with mang-o-rita. Fairy lights were coiled around everything he could manage in the room, including the dining table, which was set delicately with a lace tablecloth. Between their respective dishes was an island flower candle, which the blonde was currently rummaging through the kitchen drawer to locate some matches for.

When the search took longer than a few seconds, Armin told himself not to panic. He would find what he needed and light the candle, and everything would be _fine_. Perfect, even. Jean would come home and they'd have a nice anniversary dinner, and then Armin would draw them a candlelit bath and they'd share a bag of those imported macaroons his boyfriend adored so much.

It would all fall _perfectly_ into place.

If he could just find those _damned_ matches.

Before he realized it, Armin began taking things out of the drawer and letting them clatter to the ground. He stumbled on some magazines, a set of keys and a screwdriver, and he let them all fall, not even caring if the screwdriver scratched the floor as it went down. Armin braced his hands on the sides of the drawer, teeth clenched as his eyes bore into it. He didn't want to come to terms with the horribly _slim_ chance of him finding the matches, because that would ruin _everything_. The entire two-day's effort he'd put into this dinner would be wasted, and that thought alone was enough to bring moisture to his eyes.

He supposed he could run to the store. But that would mean leaving the house, and thus giving him a whole new set of things to worry about. What if Jean came home before he returned?

The blonde briefly glanced to the clock on the stove. _5:26pm._ Jean wasn't meant to be home for another two hours. Armin was certain, if he left right then and budgeted his time, he could be back well before seven. But he still felt anxious.

Biting his lip, Armin gave one more sidelong look to the clock before he resigned and walked across the room to the front door. He opened it and peered out, looking both ways for good measure, before he left the apartment and locked the door behind him.

He would go to Target, be back before six-twenty, prove to Jean that _he was indeed romantic and he didn't know what he was talking about_ , and then everything would be fine. Everything would be _perfect_. There was nothing he had to worry about.


End file.
